


Study Break

by Shiro_Kabocha



Series: Dorm Life at Garreg Mach Monastery [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-12-01 20:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiro_Kabocha/pseuds/Shiro_Kabocha
Summary: When Linhardt admits to a fondness for the furred cloaks of northerners, Felix decides to stop by his room one night wearing a fur cloak.  However, Linhardt doesn’t seem to be home.  Where could that wayward scholar be?





	Study Break

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of a follow-up to Linhardt's request in "Driven to Diversion" but it's not necessary to read that story before this one--there really isn't much plot. ^_^

Felix cursed as he rattled Linhardt's door again, as if it might come open if sufficiently threatened. When it didn't, he turned his back against it, clutched the cloak at his throat and considered his next move.

It was late enough that Garreg Mach was cloaked in mist and ghosts and mystery. Late enough that most of the other students long gone to bed. Felix had deliberately waited until the normal noises in the dormitory had fallen silent before he'd wrapped himself up in a cloak and stolen down to Linhardt's room. Because...well, he didn't really need anyone to see him catering to Linhardt's request quite like this.

So of course Linhardt would have chosen tonight to stay up late, most likely chasing some bit of esoteric research in the library, even though it should have been locked up and closed for the night.

I should just go back to my room, Felix thought, half hidden in shadow beneath the eaves of the dormitory. I can try another night, or I can forget this whole thing with the cloak.

It wasn't even his cloak. Felix didn't like heavy, furred cloaks that might interfere with a sword-draw. And such cloaks were completely unnecessary in the mild climate where the monastery was located. Felix had just brought it with him from home because...well, just because.

So going back to his room and putting the cloak away was the logical conclusion.

But somehow, that felt like a retreat and Felix didn't like retreating unless the battle was well and truly lost.

So with a sigh at his own stubbornness, Felix pushed away from the empty dorm room and went in search of Linhardt.

The night was cool and the crisp air ruffled the fur on Felix's collar. A half-moon hung in the sky, painting the swirling mist with spooky silver light. Not that Felix believed in ghosts or anything, but mist could be hazardous if it hid enemies or pitfalls. By now, though, he knew his way around the monastery even in pitch darkness, so he didn't bother with a torch as he made his way past the classrooms and into the school building. The doors were unlocked, but only a few torches were still lit, painting the stone walls with a dungeon-esque sort of gloom.

"Cheery," Felix muttered aloud, then was surprised when the word echoed back at him. During the day, this place was too busy to cause an echo. Suppressing a shiver, Felix made his way upstairs to the library. He cursed as he tripped on the edge of a rug, cloaked in shadow cast by the brilliant red-orange light spilling out of the library at the end of the hall. The light flickered as someone moved about the room beyond and Felix froze. What if Linhardt wasn't the only person in the library? Felix had certainly never been up here after-hours before. Was it normal for students to study late? Or was this the normal time for professors and monks to use the library? He hadn't passed anyone else on his way here, but that didn't mean no one else was up and about. He clutched the cloak closed at his throat, surprised to realize he'd been paralyzed by fear.

Slowly, Felix shook himself out of it. He couldn't back down now. If there were other people in the library, he'd just have to ask Linhardt to leave with him. It was cold outside; certainly that was more than enough reason to be wearing a floor-length furred cloak. Right?

With a sharp breath that he then held, Felix strode into the library.

Then let the breath leave him all at once when he discovered the room empty except for his green-haired lover.

Linhardt turned slowly from a shelf, open book in hand as he made a questioning noise towards the doorway, as if he'd heard someone enter, but didn't deign to stop reading just yet.

"I'm not quite finished here yet, but if you'd like to leave the keys with me, I can--" Linhardt finally looked up, blinking in surprise. Then smiled slowly and salaciously. "Please accept my apologies for ever thinking you were the interim librarian."

Felix snorted. "Do they really still try and chase you out of here at night?"

"It depends on who is supervising the staff for the evening," Linhardt replied, setting his book down on a cluttered table. "Professor Hanneman doesn't care how late I stay, but some of the others like to lock the library up with the rest of the building. They find me an annoyance." Linhardt padded over the heavy rugs, eyes sweeping up the cloak from the floor to Felix's shoulders. Felix was surprised to note that Linhardt wore only socks, his boots discarded under the table, his uniform jacket slung over the back of a chair. His white laced shirt had been loosened at the neck and the cuffs were rolled up his arms, likely to avoid ink stains. "Don't you look like a gift. What happens when I unwrap you?"

Felix grinned and leaned in close. "Should I tell you, or do you want to find out?"

"Oh, I'm quite anxious to find out. But first." Linhardt sidestepped around Felix, never taking his eyes off the swordsman for a moment. Not even as he slipped a key from his pocket and locked the door to the library, giving it a firm shake to ensure it was secure.

"I suppose it shouldn't surprise me to find that you have your own key," Felix said, amused. "But does the library staff know you have one?"

"No. And don't ask how I got it, either." Linhardt winked. "I get to have some secrets."

"Hanneman gave it to you," Felix guessed.

Linhardt huffed. "Yes. Hanneman gave it to me. Feel free to just strip all the mystery out of my life." He leaned in close to Felix, his hands running over the fur of the cloak covering Felix's chest. "Just like I'm going to strip you."

Felix gripped Linhardt's belt and tugged him even closer. "So do it already."

Linhardt captured his mouth in a kiss as Felix swiftly removed Linhardt's belt and pulled his halfway undone shirt free of his pants, sliding his hands up the warm, soft skin of Linhardt's back. Linhardt ran his hands down the furred cloak in a stroking motion, his body pressed flush against Felix's. When the kiss broke, Linhardt laid his head on Felix's shoulder, rubbing his cheek against the fur. His normally indigo eyes were nearly black with lust and his hair caught in the strands of fur, giving the mild-seeming scholar an almost wild look to him.

For one terrified moment, Felix worried that Linhardt might want to have sex on top of the fur cloak and if it were any other cloak, Felix wouldn't mind at all. In fact, just the thought of Linhardt's pale skin and verdant hair stretched out and sullied on a northman's fur cloak was enough to bring his sword to attention. But with this cloak, it just wouldn't be right. Felix found himself suddenly regretting his decision; he should have asked Sylvain for one of his cloaks and just accepted the teasing that would follow. Surely all of Sylvain's fur cloaks had all seen such use before. How could Felix explain the significance of this cloak without ruining the mood?

While Felix quietly panicked, Linhardt slipped his hand inside the cloak. Furrowed his brow. Then drew back and flung the cloak open.

"You're not even naked!" Linhardt accused, revealing Felix's casual shirt and loose-fitting breeches beneath. "You do know the entire point of showing up in a floor-length cloak is that you're supposed to be naked underneath."

"Yes, and I relished the idea of walking down the length of the dormitory in nothing but a cloak, never mind scouring the entire campus to find you when you weren't in your room." Felix rolled his eyes.

"But once you found me, you could have undressed prior to our encounter."

"Undressed? In the hallway outside the library?" Felix was already working at the buttons along his shirt. "And how was I to know you were alone? Even when I showed up, you thought I was a library attendant."

"Yes, but." Linhardt didn't really seem to have anything to add after "but." He leaned back against his cluttered study table, looking mildly put off. "It's just much less thrilling to find you clothed is all."

"That's easily remedied," Felix assured him. "Besides, it would have looked strange if I wore nothing but a belt beneath the cloak just I could carry this." Felix slid a small pouch off his belt and tossed it to Linhardt before shucking out of his shirt. Linhardt peered curiously into the pouch.

"Ah, finally got your own?" Linhardt held up a small glass jar to the light, revealing a honey-colored oil inside. "Scent of the Northern Shores? What does that mean, pray tell?"

"It smells like pine and firewood and sea salt," Felix explained, leaning back against a pillar to kick off his boots. "It smells like my home."

"Ah." Linhardt cracked the wax seal and gave it an experimental sniff. "I suppose that will do." He set the jar on the table, carefully away from his notes and books.

Felix paused in the middle of unlacing his pants. "Are you...sulking?"

"Sulking would be childish and undignified." Linhardt was most definitely sulking. "I'm brooding. It's manly."

"You're not either," Felix quipped. He felt awkward, standing there in nothing but a cloak and breeches, which were half unlaced at this point. "Should I just leave then?"

Linhardt sighed, eyes sweeping up from Felix's bare feet to the fur-mantled cloak on his shoulders. "No. But you'll have to recapture the mood somehow."

"You're a bit of a princess, you know that?"

Linhardt smirked. "Only a bit? I'll have to try harder then."

Felix laughed, sensing the mood in the room lighten just a touch. He left his pants loose around his hips and reached for Linhardt's arm, drawing him close. Linhardt curled into the furred mantle, stretching his neck long to rub against it, one hand sneaking beneath it trace the contours of Felix's chest.

"You'd feel more of it without your shirt on," Felix said, aching to leave a mark on the white column of Linhardt's throat.

"Oh?" Linhardt smirked up at him. "Would I?"

Felix wrapped one arm around Linhardt's waist as the other divested Linhardt of his shirt. He felt the arch of Linhardt's spine beneath him hand as the scholar pressed himself into the downy fur of the cloak. He turned in the circle of Felix's arms, pressing his back against Felix's chest and drew the cloak around himself like a blanket. It was too bad they stood at nearly the same height; Felix would have loved to have been able to tuck Linhardt's head beneath his chin. Instead, Linhardt let his head loll against Felix's shoulder, using the mantle as a pillow.

"I might have to get one of these for myself," Linhardt said, stroking the fur. "Are they expensive? I've never seen them sold in the empire."

"Most northern nobles make their own cloaks," Felix explained, pushing back a twinge of sadness that threatened to dampen the mood. "It's almost a rite of passage: hunting and skinning enough of the same animal to make a cloak like this. Most nobles prefer foxes or beavers, but this one is made of otter pelts."

"Are otters hard to hunt?"

"Very. Even harder to retrieve. If you don't kill them with the first shot, they dive into the ocean and you'll never find the pelt."

Linhardt hummed thoughtfully, tracing a finger against the lay of the fur to trace patterns into it. "Did you make this one?"

Was he actively _trying_ to kill the mood? Felix swallowed, determined to keep his voice steady. "No."

Linhardt fell silent a moment, fingers still running through the thick fur. After a moment, he turned and wrapped his arms around the back of Felix's neck, pulling him into a long, suggestive kiss. When it ended, Linhardt leaned back just slightly, a coy smile on his lips.

"I've decided to forgive you not being naked under the cloak," he said magnanimously. "But only if I get to see you wearing the cloak and nothing else."

"I believe I'm very nearly there already."

Linhardt chuckled, hands sliding down Felix's sides to his hips, where his pants hung but loosely. They kissed again as Linhardt worked the breeches down, sliding them over Felix's ass, freeing his semi-hard erection. Felix cupped Linhardt's ass and rocked their bodies together, making Linhardt gasp and moan into the kiss. After long moments of touching and tasting, grinding and groping, they broke away from each other at almost the same moment, Felix struggling to push his pants the rest of the way down, Linhardt to finish stripping out of his own clothes.

Once he stepped free of his breeches, leaving them pooled on the library floor, Linhardt stepped back, grinning salaciously at the sight of Felix nude beneath the heavy fur cloak. For his part, Felix lowered his chin and stalked forward, a bit like a hunter after prey. Linhardt laughed, low and breathy.

"Goddess, but I do love swordsmen," he murmured, letting Felix catch him around the waist and pull him in for a kiss. It was short and hard and breath-stealing. They only broke for a single breath, then Linhardt captured Felix's lips again as he freed midnight-colored hair from its tie. Running his fingers through the heavy, silken locks, Linhardt began kissing down Felix's neck, pushing the shoulder of the cloak back to kiss his shoulders. Felix hissed; after the warmth of the cloak, the air of the library was cold and Linhardt's kisses left a wet trail on his skin.

With his hands on Linhardt's hips, Felix pivoted, shoving the scholar backwards against the table laden with all the books, papers and quills from his day of research. He pushed Linhardt back until he was perched just on the edge of the table, giving him easy access to taste all the pale, soft skin of the southern noble. Felix scraped his teeth over a collarbone, left a mark on Linhardt's shoulder, scraped his nails lightly down Linhardt's back, turning the normally composed (if lazy) scholar into a moaning wreck. He placed a light kiss in the center of Linhardt's palm before leaning forward and curling one arm behind Linhardt's back, preparing to sweep the table clear.

"No!" Linhardt cried, seemingly fighting through a fog of lust and desire as he grabbed onto Felix's arm. Even with the weight of his body behind the grab, Felix still nearly swept the table, and the scholar along with it.

"What?" Felix asked, stopping the motion just short--only a single book tumbled from the table to the floor, though everything jostled violently, spilling stacks of parchment and sloshing ink in wells.

"This research took me all day," Linhardt protested. "Or two days. I lost count. It'll take me forever to put it back together if you toss it on the floor."

Felix blew out a breath in frustration. "Princess." He pulled Linhardt off the table, spinning him around and bending him over the edge of it instead, one sword-calloused hand pressing down between slim shoulders. Linhardt gasped in surprise, but rocked his hips back against Felix's, holding his weight on his elbows on the table. Felix let the rocking continue to a moment before he shrugged out of the cloak, draped it neatly over the back of a chair, then grabbed the jar of oil Linhardt had set on the table earlier. Leaving it open on the table nearby, Felix curled over Linhardt's back to whisper in his ear: "I wouldn't want to interrupt your very important research. This way, you can keep working while I take what I want."

Linhardt's chuckle turned to a whimper as Felix nipped at his ear. As Felix straightened, Linhardt craned his neck to look back over his shoulder. "You know, it's a well-proven fact that study breaks enhance one's comprehension of new material. So if you don't mind, I'll be focusing on you and not my 'very important research.'"

"As if I was going to let you anyway," Felix replied with a smirk. He kept his eyes on Linhardt's face as he slid oil-slick fingers down the crevice between his cheeks, watching that mildly taunting expression melt into one of wanton desire. Linhardt's back arched beautifully as Felix slipped his fingers inside, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he rocked back, fucking himself on Felix's fingers.

This all was actually way more erotic than Felix had expected it to be. They'd only ever met up in each other's rooms before, making love in the darkness or by dim candlelight. Here, the library's torches bathed Linhardt's skin in warm, red light, showing every mark Felix left behind, every dimple, every curve. It was obvious just by looking--more obvious by touching--that Linhardt didn't bother to train his body the way Felix did. No repetitive weapons drills, no scars from battle or sparring, not even the corded muscle that came from running, marching or riding. But that didn't mean Linhardt was any less deadly than Felix was. From time to time, Felix stopped by the mage training grounds, ostensibly because one day, he might consider training in reason, but more secretly, it was to catch a glimpse of Linhardt's training. He'd seen the craters full of molten stone and ash left behind after Linhardt finished practicing. Perhaps it wasn't subtle like the dark magic that Hubert and Lysithea practiced, or delicate and beautiful like the spells Marianne and Annette used, but somehow the juxtaposition of his violent destructive spells against his normal, laid back and lazy persona just seemed to fit.

Linhardt's moans rose louder and louder as Felix worked to stretch him out, smoothing oil over everything he could reach. His lips quirking into a tiny smirk, Felix curled his fingers and finally succeeded in making Linhardt release his lower lip in order to wail and he ground back against that one spot. Felix teased for a moment longer, then withdrew. Linhardt practically collapsed atop his books and notes, breathing hard as Felix slicked up his cock. Linhardt's eyes were lust-dark and halfway lidded as he twisted to watch Felix line himself up against his entrance.

"Mmm," Linhardt hummed, bracing himself on his elbows as Felix pushed in, not slow, but not too fast either. The moment he bottomed out, he began pulsing shallowly, one hand in the small of Linhart's back, the other lazily curled around a hip. Linhardt's eyes fell fully shut, verdant eyelashes resting on cheeks shadowed by several sleepless nights. His fingers curled around book spines and broken quills, catlike and content as he rocked back to the rhythm Felix set. When Felix changed to a longer, dragging stroke, Linhardt arched his back, neck stretching long, hair fanning out across the pages scattered upon the table. Felix moved a nearly dried-out inkwell, sliding it further down the table lest Linhardt's hair drag through it. If Linhardt noticed the kindness, he didn't speak of it.

It was strange and almost a little spooky, having sex in the middle of the library. The torches had all burned down, so the light was dimmer than it was during the day and despite the locked door, Felix couldn't completely shake the feeling that at any moment, someone might interrupt them. That all only served the heighten the mood, though, making Felix feel reckless and wild. He slid his hand up Linhardt's back and grasped a handful of his hair, tugging lightly in time with his thrusts. Linhardt's resulting cry echoed off the corners of the room, repeating into infinity as the sound of flesh on flesh grew louder and less coordinated.

Linhardt stretched his arms across the table, gripping the far edge and stretching his body long. Felix felt one ankle snake around the back of his calf, the other leg supporting Linhardt's weight and momentum. His shoulders curled, his head dropped towards the table and light played over the shadows of his ribs with every shallow breath. Felix settled both hands onto Linhardt's hips, fingers digging in as the pace ramped up, Linhardt's screams and cries continuous as his body trembled with need.

Felix was nearing his release when Linhardt managed to unlatch one white-knuckled hand from the edge of the table, dragging it halfway down the surface before it curled into a claw, tearing pages and breaking quills in an almost frantic scrabble. Through a euphoric haze, Felix realized Linhardt was trying to take himself in hand, as he usually did when they neared the end, but with his hips pressed against the edge of the table, reaching it would be all but impossible. Taking pity on the helpless scholar, Felix adjusted his grip, leaning over Linhardt's back a little lower, thinking he'd reach around to help him reach his climax, but just as he moved, Linhardt _screamed_. His spine became a ravine between his shoulder blades as his head snapped up, hands curled into fists on the table, the leg curled around Felix's pulling painfully tight as he continued thrusting backwards, hard, frantic, furious. Losing his train of thought completely, Felix leaned in even lower, gripping one of Linhardt's shoulders to snap him back even harder as the rhythm fell apart. Books and bottles of ink shook as the table rocked, stacks of notes spilled onto the floor. Linhardt seemed lost to it all and Felix couldn't bring himself to care. He was close, so close--

Linhardt gave a final broken cry, his body going limp over the table, his forehead dropping to the surface as the ankle tucked behind Felix's knee slid away. Felix felt the muscles around him spasm before going soft and loose, heard Linhardt's ragged breaths just beneath the slap of flesh on flesh. Letting his eyes fall closed, Felix snapped his hips forward once, twice, three more times before burying himself to the hilt, holding Linhardt at his hip and shoulder as he spilled himself deep inside. He stayed that way as he caught his breath, sweat cooling on his skin as his member softened and Linhardt's breathing became deep and even.

"Don't go falling asleep," Felix warned, trying to get Linhardt's feet under him so he could stand. "You have to at least put your clothes back on first."

Linhardt grumbled a sleepy protest, still resting heavily on the table as his ankle hooked the leg of a chair and tugged it closer. "Don't care. Sleeping here."

"I don't care if you sleep here, but tomorrow when the librarians show up, you're going to have to explain why you're naked and--" Felix glanced under the table to confirm his suspicions. "What the mess is on the floor. Did you really come untouched?"

"Mm." Linhardt's smile was both sleepy and satisfied. "That was really good. Definitely my favorite study table now."

Felix snorted. He caught Linhardt under the arms before the scholar could tumble into the chair he'd pulled towards himself. "At least pants. Come on, Linhardt."

"I don't want to," Linhardt whined, practically going limp in Felix's arms. "I haven't slept in days and now I'm tired."

Felix kept ahold of him, but just barely. He had half a mind to simply leave Linhardt to his own devices and if he was discovered naked and sticky the following morning, well, that was Linhardt's problem, not Felix's. But it was a passing thought as Felix looked for something that would rouse Linhardt long enough to at least some clothes on him.

"Why not come back to the dorms?" Felix asked. "Get dressed and walk back with me. Your bed is way better than this table."

"Considering this session we just had, I find that argument debatable."

Well, that was a semi-coherent response, so Felix tried again.

"I think your research got messed up while we were...busy."

"Hm?" Linhardt blinked sleepily and looked down at the table. Something like comprehension dawned on his face and he rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. "Oh, it's going to take me a day and half just to fix all this. There are a dozen tables, you know. We could have done this on any one of those."

"Yeah, but you said this was your favorite." Felix smirked as Linhardt leveled a glare at him. He took advantage of Linhardt's wakeful state to grab his pants from the floor and toss them to him. Linhardt scowled but reluctantly stepped into his pants before straightening a stack of papers on the table. Felix put his own clothes back on while Linhardt picked up all the small objects that had fallen, putting them back on the table at least, if not in their proper spots.

After securing his belt, Felix retrieved his jar of oil and used a handkerchief to clean up the mess Linhardt's orgasm had left on the floor. By the time he finished, Linhardt had already drawn a chair up to the table and was resting his head in his arms.

"Are you sure you want to stay here?" Felix asked. "It's not that far to the dorms. I'll help you."

"No," Linhardt yawned. He’d picked up his shirt and slipped into it, but didn’t deign to do the buttons or laces. "I'm just going to take a nap, then finish fixing this mess. I should complain that you've set me so far back, but I'm actually not even mad. You may certainly go back to the dorms, though. I don't expect you to stay here with me." He yawned the last sentence, settling into the pillow of his arms even more.

Felix finished tugging on his boots, hoping that when Linhardt woke up from his “nap” he’d remember to finish putting on the rest of his clothes. He turned to leave, then remembered Linhardt had locked the doors.

"Did you leave the key in the lock?"

"Pocket." Another spoken yawn. Linhardt made no move to hand the key over, so Felix leaned over him to fish around in his pocket until he turned up the key to the door. The air in the corridor was cool compared to warmth of the library, making Felix shiver as he threw the door open. He padded back to the table and set the key next to Linhardt's elbow. The scholar was already asleep, a dreamy smile on his face, his hair spilled haphazardly over his arms and notes.

He's going to get cold, Felix thought, eyeing Linhardt's scattered clothing once more. He wished he'd been able to convince Linhardt to put on his socks, maybe actually button his shirt, but Linhardt wouldn't thank him for waking him up again. Instead, Felix shook out Glenn's fur cloak and laid it gently over Linhardt's shoulders, tucking it around his sides and under his arms. He let his fingers linger in the fur for just a moment, a bittersweet smile on his face, then turned and left.

**Author's Note:**

> Want to know when I’m posting more smutty FE3H one-shots? Follow me on [Twitter](%E2%80%9D).


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